Fortunately, Roy and Bob's possible heart attack victim was suffering only from anxiety, but because of her age and the fact that she was so agitated Dr. Morton ordered them to transport the upset woman to Rampart.
"I'll go with her," Roy stated in a way that would brook no discussion. Not that Bob wanted to argue with him; he knew that treating a patient could help keep Roy's mind off of John.
Bob picked up their gear and loaded it into the squad. Following the ambulance, he finally had a few minutes to review the incredible story Roy had told him on the way to their call.
Bob parked the squad and went into the ER to look for his partner. Spying Roy exit treatment room one, Bob began talking before he even reached him. "I've been thinking about that note, Roy. Do you really think he meant ketoacidosis?"
Because the Animal spoke decibels over a normal person's indoor voice, Dixie and Dr. Early couldn't help overhearing at the nurses' station.
"Ketoacidosis?" Dr. Early repeated. "That's funny."
"What is?" Roy asked.
"We just admitted a man for that condition, didn't we, Dix?"
Dixie nodded, looking quizzically from Roy to Bob. Before she could ask about Johnny's whereabouts, Dr. Early thoughtfully tapped his pen on the counter. "Yeah, there was something strange about him."
The usually fair and friendly doctor's voice had an edge, which caught Roy's attention. Joanne always teased Roy about his "man's intuition" that came online if he thought something was wrong with her, his children, or Johnny. He preferred to call it his "Dad instinct." "Why do you say that?" Roy asked.
"He stumbled into the ER knowing exactly what was wrong with him, but the strange thing was, he has never been diagnosed as being diabetic before today." Dr. Early set his clipboard down. "In fact, this was the first time he's ever presented symptoms. After he stabilized, I asked how he knew about diabetic ketoacidosis, but he wouldn't say. There is something about him…I don't know," Dr. Early concluded with a shake of his silvery gray head.
From the no-nonsense look on her face, it was clear Dixie shared the doctor's opinion. "I know this condition can cause a patient to be mixed up, but he really is an odd duck. Instead of asking about his diagnosis, he kept demanding to know where I had put his personal belongings." She sat down on her stool and as an afterthought muttered indignantly, "As if I would steal an old pocket watch."
"What?" Bob exclaimed at the same time Roy yelled, "Did you say 'pocket watch'?"
Dixie and Dr. Early regarded the paramedics with surprise. "Want to enlighten us?" Dixie asked.
"Gage is in trouble!" Bob blurted out.
"Johnny?" Just coming on duty, Dr. Brackett walked up to get the most current updates from Dixie. "What's he done now?"
"It's a long story, but he's missing and it could have something to do with this patient," Roy declared.
Brackett's mouth twitched. "John's not missing. He's here at Rampart."
"What? Where?"
"I don't know exactly where in the hospital he is, but I parked by his Land Rover not twenty minutes ago."
"Are you sure it was Johnny's car?" Roy cried.
"I think I know the Rover when I see it, Roy," the doctor replied, annoyed.
Roy grabbed Dr. Brackett's arm. "We have to go there, now!"
Angry, Brackett jerked backwards. "Now wait just a minute…"
Roy whirled around to a perplexed Dixie. "That patient…what's his name? Where is he now?"
Dixie thumbed through her paperwork. "Michael Reynolds. He was admitted for observation."
Bob was half way to the exit as Roy fumbled to fish Sonny Molino's card from his pants pocket. "Dix, call this detective. Tell him that the killer is Michael Reynolds and he's here at Rampart. Send security up to his room."
"Killer?" she gasped.
"Doc, please come with us! Johnny could be hurt!" Roy pleaded.
Brackett hesitated, then nodded. He might not understand what was going on, but he fully trusted his paramedic. "Dix, send an ambulance over to meet us in the east lot, the last row on the right side by the bushes."
"Right, Kel," she said.
Dr. Brackett and Roy ran to catch up with Bob who was already getting in the driver's seat of the squad. Brackett squeezed in with the two medics, and Bob tore out.
"Roy, when we get there, let me take the lead," Bob said firmly.
"What? He's my partner!"
"That's exactly why. We don't even know if he'll be there or…or what condition he may be in. " Unusually quiet, Bob's tone was filled with compassion.
Roy shook his head. Whether he was disagreeing with Bob's request or refusing to acknowledge the possibility of John being dead, Bob didn't know.
"Can someone tell me what is going on?" Dr. Brackett demanded as Bob punched the accelerator.
"I will, doc, I will, but later, OK?" Roy's body tensed as he strained forward to spy the Rover. "Where do we need to go?"
"Go straight, then turn right," Brackett replied.
A blur of red, the squad sped down one row and made a squealing turn to another.
"Up there, I see it!" Roy gripped the dashboard. The squad hadn't even come to a full stop before Roy leapt out. "Johnny!"
"I don't see him!" Bob said, cupping his hands around his eyes to get a better look into the front seat. "Looks like someone puked in here."
Roy ran to the back but couldn't see anything but John's camping gear. He pounded on the back door. "Johnny!"
"Is he in there?" Brackett asked as an ambulance pulled up, lights flashing.
"I need something to break the window!" Roy ran to the squad and pulled out an oxygen tank. "Everyone, stand back!"
He struck the back window with all his might, causing fractures to spider web from the point of impact upward. Two, three, four more times he pounded until the glass shattered, sending shards and splinters over John's blanket and backpack. Roy frantically reached inside to open the door, then climbed in. He yanked the backpack out and threw it to the ground. Ignoring the pieces of glass that cut the palms of his hands, he pulled off the blanket and tarp.
"He's here! Bob, I need something to cut these ropes. Johnny, can you hear me?"
Bob handed Roy the scissors. The senior paramedic quickly freed his best friend's hands and feet. Gently Roy peeled away the tape that covered John's mouth.
"He's breathing!" Roy reported. Bob and Dr. Brackett watched as Roy skillfully felt his unconscious partner's limbs. "He doesn't have any broken bones."
"Bring that gurney around here." Bracket motioned for the ambulance attendants. "We need to get him out of there, it's like an oven!"
Together, Bob and Roy carefully maneuvered to lift their limp friend and move him from the car to the waiting stretcher.
"Get your gear," Dr. Brackett directed his paramedics. He checked John's pulse then respirations, not liking either reading. Next, he assessed the cut at John's right temple. It looked to him as if the young man had been pistol-whipped. John's face was flushed with heat and he was diaphoretic, his dark hair plastered to his head. Continuing his exam, Brackett felt a small lump at the back of John's head and a large one on the left side.
"Bob, get an IV started," he ordered. He did a sternum rub, which caused a small moan of pain to escape John's lips. "Let's go, let's go! He needs to be in the ER right now!"